You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell
by Three Faint Calls
Summary: “Creating chaos is what I do best. And so I choose to do it. That does not make me crazy. It makes YOU crazy that you don’t understand it.” The story of how the Joker escaped from jail with Sophie Flores, and wreaked havoc on Gotham. Joker/OC.
1. You're the Victim Once Again

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

From the moment the newly trained, baby-faced police officer strode in the door of the break room, his heavily starched navy blue uniform creasing at the knees with each step, the guards of Gotham's main penitentiary could tell he had no idea what he was in for.

"Are you Officer Clearwater?" one of the guards asked gruffly, his voice somewhere between amusement and complete disbelief.

"Yes, sir. Timothy Clearwater at your service, sir," the young officer replied, an excited grin breaking over his face.

"There's no need for all that 'sir' crap. I'm Moe, that's Harold, and over there's Jimmy. We go by a first-name basis here 'cause it takes less time, and we don't like to waste time. Coffee's in the corner-don't bother looking for milk or sugar, 'cause you ain't gonna find it. You start in a few minutes, so I'd recommend grabbing a cup of magic elixir, 'cause to be honest with you kid…I don't think you have any idea what you're in for." The guard said, letting out a low whistle towards the end of his introduction.

The smile on Timothy Clearwater's face disappeared and was replaced by a worried look that he quickly covered up by filling a cracked white mug with cold coffee and holding it over his mouth.

"How old are you, anyways? Fifteen?" Moe asked as the other guards laughed in a mocking sort of way.

"I'm twenty-seven. Look, I may appear young, but I have been trained well and I'm sure this _Joker_ will be a hell of a lot easier to deal with then commissioner Gordon," Timothy replied, adding a minor swear word to seem a little tougher.

This remark was met with another round of laughs, but this time it was not at his expense, so Timothy joined in. He finished what was left of his rather disgusting coffee and prepared to meet the criminal who he had been appointed to escort through the penitentiary for meal times and showers. After the Joker had been imprisoned, he had been kept in solitary confinement, but since he had been well-behaved for the past couple months, he had been allowed permission to dine with the other inhabitants of the dingy cells. Whether he would choose to shower or not was beyond Timothy's guess: from what he had seen of him, the Joker didn't seem to care much about personal hygiene. But perhaps after being locked in a gritty cell for nearly half a year he would want to wash out that greasy green hair.

"Let's go Tim," Moe said, standing up and stretching his muscular arms.

They walked down the stairs to the lowest level of the building and then down a dark hallway which seemed to lead into the dark caverns of Hell itself. But the sounds Timothy heard were not sounds you might hear in a cavern: not the flutter of a bats wings, or the steady drip of water and sediment falling from stalactites into pools. Instead he heard fists on metal bars, whispered curses, and a guttural snarl that could only be directed at him and his companion. He shivered. Just when he had started contemplating making a mad dash for the stairs back to the exit, he saw two small cells stuck together, the Joker sprawled out on the floor of the one on the right.

"Get up, you son of a bitch," Moe snarled, kicking the cell door with the toe of his boot.

"Um, I don't think insulting him would be the best idea…" Timothy said nervously, realizing just how scared he sounded a moment too late.

He hadn't felt afraid before, but he was standing in front of the man who had killed several cops, kidnapped nearly the entire population of Gotham, and blown up a hospital! How was he supposed to feel?

"Oh, what's he gonna do? He's locked up. And he's gonna be for the rest of his life!" Moe yelled, spitting on the floor of the Joker's cell.

"You know, 'gonna' isn't really a word," the Joker piped up, moving away from the gob of spit with a repulsed face.

Well, it looked repulsed, but with all that make-up, it was sort of hard to tell.

"Shut up you stupid clown," Moe growled.

"Hey! Let's just stop calling him names, OK?" Timothy squeaked, somehow expecting the Joker to spring out of the cell at any moment with a butterfly knife in his hand.

"Relax kid," Moe said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, relax. I won't hurt you, pretty boy," the Joker giggled, his face contorting as he lapsed into a fit of mirth.

"You better not." Moe warned, and then headed back up the hall, leaving Timothy alone with the deranged clown.

"What's your name?" the Joker asked, choking down his last giggle.

"Timothy Clearwater," Timothy replied, wishing for a meaner sounding name, like Butch Christensen or something.

"Are you afraid of me Tiny Tim?" the Joker whispered, standing up.

His purple suit was wrinkled and stained, his shoes scuffed and laces untied, his hair filthy and swamp-green, his face covered in old paint that was smeared from his tears of laughter, although his scars were still visible underneath all that. It was a dreadful appearance, but what Timothy really noticed were his eyes. They were dark brown pools of merciless hatred that could drown you if you let them, and he had to fight to look away.

"No." Timothy answered.

"You're lying." The Joker said simply.

"No, I'm not," Timothy insisted, his voice wavering in a way that made his untruthful answer so obvious that it felt like he was wearing a neon sign that read 'LIAR'.

"You are. It's ridiculous, considering I'm locked up in here and you've got a gun and I've got nothing. You could shoot me at any given time, but I can do absolutely nothing to defend myself. The thought doesn't scare me-but you're terrified. Excuse me for saying this, but it's pathetic." The Joker said.

It really was.

"I'm not going to shoot you," Timothy promised.

"Well, goody." The Joker sneered.

Timothy said nothing, just leaned against the wall and watched the Joker intently.

"You're boring," the Joker complained.

"Shut up," Timothy muttered.

"Someone's a little sensitive!" the Joker exclaimed.

"Maybe you're just obnoxious," Timothy shot back.

"Hey, I don't want to fight with you Tiny Tim. I'd rather be friends. Shake on it?" the Joker asked, holding his gloved hand out through the bars.

"Oh, alright," Timothy sighed, taking the Joker's hand reluctantly.

Before he knew what had happened, the Joker yanked him forward and slammed him up against the cell door.

"Bad move, Timmy." The Joker whispered, wrapping his other hand around Timothy's neck.

"Help!" Timothy gasped, and Moe came running back down the hall, a gun in his hand.

"Drop him," he commanded, and the Joker did (quite literally).

Timothy fell to the ground, clutching at his throat. For a moment he could barely speak, but chocked out 'thanks' to Moe, while silently cursing himself for being so careless.

"No problem kid. I thought something like that might happen, so I stayed close by," Moe replied, glaring at the Joker.

"I'm sorry Timmy, I really didn't mean anything by it! It just gets so dull in here by myself that sometimes I do thing just to amuse myself. I would have let you go before your circulation really cut off," the Joker said in an almost believable apologetic tone.

"Oh, that's a relief," Timothy snapped, getting to his feet.

"You won't be by yourself for much longer. Someone's going to move into that cell tomorrow named Sophie Flores," Moe told him.

"That sounds like too sweet a person to be put in here next to someone like me," the Joker said.

"Don't let the name throw you off. She murdered her entire family with a broken bottle and her bare hands." Moe said gravely.

"I can't wait to meet her." The Joker announced, grinning maliciously.


	2. Another Day, Another Drama

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for your reviews! I'm so glad you like the story so far. I apologize for the slow update…I've been sick for a few days and haven't been on the computer much. But anyways, hope you enjoy chapter two!

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

Sophie Flores felt a sharp pain in her back as the guard, Moe or something like that, jabbed her in the back with his nightstick. She was being herded like cattle into a cell at Gotham's penitentiary, even though she was hardly supposed to be there. Not only was she in the wrong prison-the women's jail was full, due to police capturing a great number of hookers who killed their customers-but she was in the wrong place all together. She was not a criminal, unless you counted the two parking tickets she had left unpaid in Canada or the occasional illegal crossing of the railroad. But that was hardly enough to make her even a small time crook. And no matter how many trials she would have to attend, no matter how many bites of jail food she would be forced to endure, she refused to plead guilty to the murder of her family.

"Get in there." Moe ordered, unlocking a cell door.

Sophie obeyed, hoping that if she was well-behaved enough, they might just believe she was innocent. It was a poor idea, but it was all she had.

The door slammed shut and Moe locked it with a satisfied look on his face, almost like a butterfly collector who has just trapped a very rare specimen. Then he walked back down the hall, leaving her in the dank cell, wondering if she would ever really get out.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" a sly voice asked from the next cell over.

Sophie whirled around, and found herself face to face with Gotham's prince of crime, the Joker. He was not particularly pleasant to look at, but his appearance did not frighten her for some reason. Maybe it was because they were separated by a row of metal bars and maybe it was because she had never been frightened of him to begin with. She remembered seeing him on the television, his deranged home videos depicting his murder of the Batman wanna be, Brian Douglas. It was unnerving, but not terrifying.

"Sophie, isn't it?" the Joker asked, sticking his hand through the bars as if he wanted her to shake it.

"That's me," she replied. "How did you know my name?"" she added, bemused.

"I've heard about you. The guards told me that you killed your entire family with a broken bottle! That's very impressive. How did you do it?" the Joker asked.

"One, the guards were telling tall tales, because my family was shot, two, I didn't do it." Sophie answered, wondering how the broken bottle had come about.

"If you didn't do it, what are you doing here?" the Joker leered, looking as though he didn't believe her a single bit.

"I was falsely accused. And as for being here, in this prison in particular, the women's penitentiary was full." Sophie told him.

"Have you got anything to do?" the Joker asked.

"What do you mean?" Sophie replied.

"I mean, do you have some cards or a magazine or something? I'm bored." The Joker said, pouting.

"Too bad. This isn't a daycare center." Sophie informed him.

He let out a short, abrupt laugh.

"Obviously not, Miss Flores. Oh, I don't believe I've introduced myself-" the Joker began.

"I know who you are. You looked scarier on TV." Sophie interrupted.

The Joker scowled and sat down on his bed.

"How long do you plan on staying in here if you're really not a criminal? If you haven't killed anyone, you're just taking up space," the Joker said.

"Maybe I'll kill you and then I'll really belong here," Sophie threatened.

It came out sounding a lot more childish than she intended.

"I'd like to see you try!" the Joker giggled, sounding more amused than sarcastic.

"Forget I said anything," Sophie muttered.

"Look doll, honestly I don't think anyone would be too upset if you DID do me in. I mean, let's face it, I'm not very well-liked around here." The Joker said once he had stopped laughing at her pathetic threat.

"I think there's more to life than being well-liked." Sophie replied.

"Of course there is. But what?" the Joker asked.

There was a question neither of them knew the answer to.


	3. Walls of Fear

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! I'm glad you like the story so far. If there's something that you think I should fix or something that you don't think works well with the plot/character/dialogue, please point it out. As much as I love reading what you DO like about the story, constructive criticism really does help me improve my writing. Anyways, on to chapter three!

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

The Joker had narrowed his options for death down to two. He would either die of A, starvation, since the jail food was terrible; or B, boredom. Timmy was dull-he was too concerned that he might have his life threatened again to even try to have some fun. Prison in general was boring-it was rules, rules, rules, and more rules. And cranky guards, too. Sophie was angry at him for whatever reason and spent most of her time curled up in the corner of her cell, humming to herself.

"So, Sophie, I'm curious to know just how you plan on convincing the court that you're innocent." The Joker said, glancing over at her.

"I don't know." Sophie replied shortly.

"Well, it sounds like you've got this all thought out," the Joker said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up. I just don't think anyone will believe me. I was there when the police found my family dead. My fingerprints were on the gun. All the evidence points to me…but I didn't do it." Sophie said.

"If it makes you feel any better, I believe you didn't do it," the Joker told her.

"And do you think the court is going to care that some crazy serial killer believes I didn't do it?" Sophie scoffed.

"I. Am. Not. Crazy." The Joker snarled, wrapping his fingers around the metal bars that separated his cell from hers.

He ought to wring her pretty little throat for saying such a thing.

"Maybe you don't think so." Sophie muttered.

"Creating chaos is what I do best. And so I choose to do it. That does not make me crazy. It makes YOU crazy that you don't understand it." The Joker said, and smiled with satisfaction when he saw the truth of his words dawn on her.

"Whatever. Why do you believe I didn't kill my family?" Sophie asked.

The Joker smiled and licked his lips.

"Because, doll, you don't look like a killer. You don't act like a killer. And you're not." He replied.

"And if I was a killer, how would I act?" Sophie asked.

"You would come up with a good look, carry around countless knives, and cackle manically." The Joker said dryly.

A small smile graced Sophie's lips before she caught herself and frowned.

"Why do you hate me so much?" the Joker asked.

"You really want to know?" Sophie replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes." The Joker said.

"OK. I hate you for robbing my fathers bank, Gotham United. I hate that you did it so easily. His entire life was wrecked that day, and it's all because of you. I believe that someone who was angry at my father for letting the bank be robbed killed my family and framed me. And I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." Sophie told him, her voice full of malice.

"I'm really sorry." The Joker said airily, although he was not at all.

"Yeah, you sure sound sorry," Sophie snapped.

"I am. No hard feelings, right?" the Joker asked.

"The only hard feeling will be my fist connecting with your face!" Sophie exclaimed.

The Joker giggled, wondering how much worse her threats could get.

"Oh, Sophie, you are such a delight!" he exclaimed, causing her to scowl further.

"I hate you." She whispered.

"Hey, keep making that face and it'll freeze like that," the Joker pointed out.

"Good." Sophie said stubbornly.

He studied her. She was ordinary looking-nothing ugly about her, but nothing extremely beautiful either. Her black hair was curly and fell just below her shoulders and her bangs concealed her eyes so well that he couldn't even tell what color they were. The orange prisoners outfit overwhelmed her small frame, and made her look like a little tangerine. He laughed at the absurdity of that thought and she put her hands over her ears.

"Your laugh is nauseating." She informed him.

"Thank you." The Joker replied.

The amount of hatred she possessed for him was almost flattering.


	4. How Can People Be So Cruel?

A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! I have been requested to write longer chapters and I promise to make them at least one thousand words after this one, but I liked the note it ended on and didn't want to add on anything else. So…you will have chapters that are at least twice as long as the second and third in the near future. Oh, I know I haven't quite got the Joker down yet, but I'm still working on his character and also incorporating that odd cadence of his voice into a story. In case you hadn't guessed, I'm basing this on Heath Ledger's Joker. May he rest in peace. Anyways, enough talking. Enjoy!

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

Sophie closed her eyes and leaned against the cold cell wall, trying to ignore the Joker's obnoxious humming. He seemed to be in a good mood today, although she didn't know why. When you were stuck in prison with little hope of being released, reasons to be cheerful were hard to come by. She opened her eyes and saw him doing a little dance.

"What are you so happy about?" Sophie asked, scowling at him.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that I think I may have found a new member for my team." The Joker replied, skipping over to the bars and grinning at her garishly.

"Oh, yeah? Who?" Sophie questioned.

"You, dear Sophie. _You_." The Joker whispered.

"That's a pretty weak attempt at a joke," Sophie retorted, rolling her eyes.

"For the first time in my life doll, I am completely _serious_. So, are you interested?" the Joker asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Of course I'm not! Look, I may have been wrongly accused and imprisoned for no good reason, but it's because of you and your whole operation! My family would still be alive if it wasn't for you, and if you think I'm going to join your team of criminals and freaks you are certainly mistaken." Sophie answered, her voice shaking with emotion.

She hated him. She hated his greasy green hair, his stupid clown make up, his scars…everything about him. She hated what she did not understand about him and she hated what she did. He was her nemesis.

"Well, that's a shame. You may be all…_ahem_, sweet and innocent now, but I'm sure I could change that." The Joker said.

He abruptly pulled away from the bars as his cell door swung open and a young officer who's name was Timothy or something like that walked in.

"Oh, is it time for lunch already?" the Joker asked.

Timothy nodded curtly and took the Joker by the arm, escorting him out the door.

"I'll be back soon darling!" the Joker called back to Sophie.

She sighed and closed her eyes again. A few minutes later a guard unlocked her cell door and handed her a tray of food, which looked and smelled absolutely revolting.

"Thank you," Sophie said, offering a small smile which she hoped appeared charming.

The guard grunted something along the lines of 'you're welcome' and retreated back into the hall, locking the door behind him.

Sophie poked at the lunch, which consisted of a piece of Wonderbread, some sort of meat chili, and sweet corn. She ate a few kernels and then decided she would rather starve than digest the rest.

As she made trails through the thick chili with her fork, she caught the voices of two guards talking in the hall, apparently thinking they were out of earshot.

"What's that Sophie girl doing in here anyways?" one asked, who sounded like Timothy.

"She's responsible for the death of her family," the other replied, who could only be Moe.

"Didn't her father own Gotham United?" Timothy asked.

"He sure did. Got in quite a lot of trouble after the Joker robbed the bank." Moe answered.

"Wait, I heard the Joker issued a threat against his family. Why are we blaming Sophie for this? She's his _daughter_!" Timothy exclaimed.

"Keep it down boy!" Moe whispered urgently.

"Sorry." Timothy said quietly, and Sophie had to strain her ears to hear anything else.

"We don't want to blame Sophie for this, believe me. The Joker left one of his cards in Arthur's abandoned office and we assumed that was meant to be a threat. But then the judge's and commissioners lives were threatened and we had to prioritize. We had one or two officers on watch for the Flores family, but when Sophie was discovered with the gun, we decided that it would be easier to just blame her than to admit that we hadn't done our job properly. That's just how the game is played kid." Moe told him.

"This is despicable. You're letting that poor girl take the fall for you? You should have realized that the Joker meant that threat!" Timothy yelled.

"Pipe down!" Moe shouted back.

Sophie had heard all she needed to. They had let her family die? And let her just be framed for it? She had thought that her family was respected in this city, but it turned out that no one really cared for anyone here. It was a dog eat dog world, and she was the victim.

When she had first heard about the bank being robbed, she had been in shock. But it was nothing like the shock she felt now. She felt betrayed and…furious.

It was all at once almost too much to comprehend. She barely felt able to contain all of her disbelief and anger, but she somehow wrestled it into her very core until it became so powerful that she was shaking.

That was how the Joker found her when he returned to his cell: curled up into a ball, her hands shaking violently, eyes still wide with shock.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, somewhat amused.

"I can't talk about it right now. All I can tell you is that I may be interested in joining your team after all." Sophie replied.


	5. Happy is a Troubled Time

A/N: Chapter five! Before I write anything else, I would just like to thank everyone who has read or reviewed this story. Your encouragement and kind words are what keep me writing, and I really appreciate you taking the time to read each chapter and tell me what you thought about it. I would also like to thank anyone who has added this to their Story Alert, or Favorites. You all are the best.

For anyone that was wondering, the title of this story is actually a lyric from a song called 'I Wanna Be a Girl' by King Khan and the Shrines. Anyways, here it is!

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

"_I can't talk about it right now. All I can tell you is that I may be interested in joining your team after all." Sophie replied._

"Excellent!" the Joker exclaimed, clapping his hands together enthusiastically.

He sat down and clutched at his stomach, feeling the wrath of the chili.

"I see you had about the same reaction to the food that I did," Sophie remarked, gagging.

"I wouldn't call that food," the Joker muttered.

"Good point," Sophie said.

"So, what made you change your mind? My charm? My devilishly handsome looks? The promise of a fruitful life of crime?" the Joker asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"None of the above. It's a case of revenge." Sophie replied darkly, completely ignoring any humor in what he had said.

"Ooh, revenge you say? And just who are you trying to get even with?" the Joker asked, grinning.

He hadn't even been living next to her for a week and he was already turning her into a class A villain. It was going to be such a treat to watch her kill for the first time…to see her become exactly like him. To enjoy it. He could hardly wait.

"I'm trying to get even with the entire Gotham police department." Sophie said.

"Ha! And why would that be, doll?" the Joker asked.

"This may sound a little farfetched at first," Sophie began, and beckoned for him to come closer, apparently so that the guards wouldn't hear.

He sat down on the floor next to the bars and leaned toward her, noticing that she did not act as repulsed this time.

"The night my family was killed…I was planning on killing myself. I didn't feel like there was anything to live for anymore, since I didn't have any real friends, a boyfriend, or a fulfilling career. The rest of my family saw me as a disappointment. I mean, my father owned a bank, my mother used to be a movie star, my older sister was a model and my brother was a professor at Gotham University. And I was the youngest one, with a dream of being a musician but paying the bills by working at Borders. Anyways, I had gone to my parents house for dinner and was planning on taking the gun that my father kept in case of an emergency. My siblings were there as well, and the evening was a somber affair, and the conversation mainly revolved around the bank. After the meal, I went upstairs and took the gun from the closet where it was kept, then locked myself in the bathroom, wondering if I would really have the guts to do it. As I pressed the tip of the gun to my forehead and prepared to pull the trigger, I heard at least fifteen shots from downstairs. I loosened my grip on the trigger and ran from the bathroom, only to find my family slain, several bullet holes in each of them. Even though I knew it was too late, I called 911 and when the police came, they found me, holding the gun, sobbing hysterically. I was taken under arrest and later transferred here after they discovered the bullets found in the bodies of my family matched the ones in the gun I had. Although I didn't do it, there's no way I can convince the court.

Just a few minutes ago I heard the guards talking and they said they knew that someone was after my family, but since it worked so well for me to be the accused one, they just let me take the blame. They know I didn't do it, but they're not going to tell anyone. And so that's why I'm going to join you. To repay them for all they've done to me." Sophie said, taking a shaky breath at the end as if she was about to cry.

"There, there, darling. Don't worry. We'll get them all." The Joker whispered.

"You believe me then?" Sophie asked, surprised.

"Of course I do, beautiful. I already told you I do. Now then, how do we get out of this place?" the Joker replied.

"How should I know?" Sophie said, wiping a single tear from below her eye.

The Joker looked at her closely. Her eyes were green, and when she brushed her bangs out of her face slightly, he could see little flecks of gold mixed into the green as well. Her entire appearance may have been rather plain, but he had never seen eyes like hers before. They were almost catlike.

He blinked and licked his lips, startled that he had let himself go for a moment.

"Well, I just thought you might have some ideas." He snapped.

"I sort of do, actually. I'm not saying it will work, but…Timothy seems to feel sorry for me. He doesn't believe I belong in here. Maybe I could get him to bring me something, like a magazine, and then when he's close enough, I could steal his keys." Sophie said.

"That's the worst idea I've ever heard." The Joker said flatly, causing her to glare at him.

"Have you got something better?" Sophie challenged.

"In fact, I do. When Tiny Tim comes in to get me for lunch, I'll slit his throat, take his keys and gun, then let you out, and then we'll run like the wind and shoot anyone who gets in our way." The Joker said simply.

"Um, just how are you going to slit his throat without a weapon, genius?" Sophie asked.

"Hold on," the Joker said.

He took off his left shoe and then pulled off his sock. It had purple, green, and orange checkers and it was his favorite. The other was purple and green polka-dots. He had always thought matching was overrated.

"You're going to kill him with a sock?" Sophie asked incredulously. "Actually, I bet you could. Those smell disgusting." She added, making a face.

"Oh, hush. I'm not going to kill him with a sock…I'm going to kill him with what's _inside_ the sock." The Joker replied.

He ripped open the top seam and pulled out a blade about as thin as a chopstick. It was very flexible and very sharp and could easily slice though skin. The police had done a thorough search for weapons when they brought him in, but neither man nor metal detector had found this. And it was going to prove to be extremely useful in this so-called "plan" that he had concocted. He hated the fact that he was planning anything, but it was very loose, so he could definitely improvise.

"Well, you follow the boy scouts motto, don't you?" Sophie said, raising her eyebrows.

"Not always," the Joker answered, carefully holding the blade between his thumb and forefinger.

He held it out to her and she took it, looking bemused.

"Keep it with you," the Joker told her.

"Why?" Sophie asked.

"Because I've just decided that I want you to be the one to do it." The Joker replied.

"What? No!" Sophie exclaimed, thrusting the blade back at him.

"If you're going to be on my team, you better get used to having some blood on your hands," the Joker said, shrugging.

"But-" Sophie began.

"Sophie, Sophie, Sophie. You don't know how much I'd like to be the one to kill him. But you have yet to experience the thrill of taking a human life, and I want you to know what you're missing. The feeling of knowing that their fate is in your hands…the slowing of the pulse…the last breath. It's so…so…indescribable. But so incredible." The Joker whispered, struggling to find words to truly express how _good_ it felt.

"You're sick." Sophie said, but she took the blade anyways.

The Joker pulled his sock and shoe back on and rested his forehead against the bars.

"You won't disappoint me, will you Sophie?" he asked.

"Hopefully not." Sophie muttered.

She looked at him intently, taking in the details of his features, or at least, what she could see with the face paint still on.

"Do your scars hurt?" she asked softly.

"Not anymore," the Joker replied, "But they did when I got them."

"How did you get them?" Sophie asked.

"That's a story for a different time, doll."


	6. How Can This Town Sleep at Night?

Hello all. I am going to start doing: promoting stories I love here on about the Joker! I encourage you to read 'A Sort of Protégé' by tigerfeet, because it's phenomenal. Anyways, here's chapter six-happy new year!

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

Sophie didn't sleep well the night before their supposed 'great escape', mainly due to the fact that she was going to have to be the one to slit Timothy's throat. She wanted to get out of the penitentiary, of course, but she didn't want to kill someone so innocent. He hadn't been involved with her family and he hadn't been happy to hear about Gotham's 'finest' throwing her in a cell for no reason at all.

Soon, she would have a reason to be here…but by then, she'd hopefully be long gone.

"Nervous much?" the Joker chuckled from the corner of his little room, noticing her frantic pacing.

"What if something goes wrong?" Sophie asked, her brow furrowed with worry.

"If something goes wrong, what could they do? Put us in jail? Hate to tell ya doll, but we're already there." The Joker replied, standing up and stretching his arms restlessly.

"Or there's always the death penalty!" Sophie exclaimed, suddenly picturing herself swinging from a noose in the middle of the city.

"For crying out loud! You worry too much! Just follow me and you'll be fine. Assuming you are prepared to follow whatever it is I might do…" the Joker said, a dangerous smile pulling up the corners of his bright red lips.

"What _do_ you plan on doing?" Sophie asked, feeling slightly queasy.

"Look, darling, man plans and god laughs. Don't ever plan _anything_, because it will not end the way you want it to." The Joker answered, reminding her of a father lecturing their child.

"Clearly. If my plan had worked out the night my family died, I wouldn't still be here. And now I'm about to murder a completely innocent man." Sophie muttered.

"Isn't it funny how things work out?" the Joker asked.

Sophie didn't reply and he huffed, apparently annoyed.

At half past noon, Timothy appeared, and unlocked the door, avoiding making eye contact with either Sophie or the Joker. He grabbed the Joker's arm with an uncharacteristic force and began pulling him towards the hall, but the clown twisted around and kicked Timothy very hard in the shin. He yelped in pain and tears sprang to his eyes when the Joker slammed him against the bars that separated his cell from Sophie's. She grabbed the rapier-like blade and ran towards him, her heart beating so loudly she could barely hear herself think, if she was thinking anything at all.

The Joker pulled Timothy's gun from the holster and aimed it at his forehead as distant footsteps from the hall became louder.

"Please! Please don't kill me!" Timothy pleaded, almost sobbing.

"Oh, Timmy. I would never kill you…" The Joker whispered, stroking the side of Timothy's face in an almost gentle way.

The footsteps were getting louder and louder and Sophie knew they didn't have much time. She gritted her teeth and reached around the bars, cleanly running the blade across Timothy's throat. He gasped as if in disbelief and sank to the ground, blood running from the incision.

"But I never said she wouldn't!" the Joker finished, cackling.

Sophie was disgusted with herself, but there was no time for remorse. A burly guard ran into the cell and was promptly shot dead by the Joker, who then took the keys from the man and opened the door for Sophie. She took the gun that the Joker offered her and ran like the wind down the hall, wincing every time a shot was fired. By some luck, she got up the stairwell without dying, and found herself face to face with a shocked Moe, who she kicked in the groin and then smacked across the forehead with the gun, successfully knocking him out. She wasn't ready to take anymore lives for today.

"All right everyone, drop your weapons!" the Joker said, and the clatter of machinery hitting the floor filled Sophie's ears.

"What do you want? And no phone calls this time!" one officer shouted, his hands in the air.

The Joker laughed manically.

"I want a good cup of coffee and my things. Where's my suit and my knives?" he asked, looking around.

"Coffee?" Sophie said, exasperated. "We don't have time for that!"

"My dear, there is always time to enjoy the simple pleasures of life," the Joker replied.

"The coffee machine is over there. Your suit and other…_things_ are in the second drawer down in that cabinet." Another officer said quietly, pointing at an ugly metal piece of furniture.

"Get some coffee for me," the Joker told Sophie, walking towards the cabinet with his gun trained on the officer closest.

"Say the magic word." Sophie replied, smirking.

"_Please_." The Joker said, rolling his dark eyes.

"That's more like it. Sugar?" Sophie asked, pouring him a plastic cup full of the steaming hot brew.

How odd. She was making the clown prince of crime coffee while escaping from Gotham Penitentiary. They had better hurry, because the other cops could have been alerted by now.

"I'll take seven spoonfuls." The Joker answered.

"Seven?" Sophie asked incredulously.

"Yes, and make it fast doll!" the Joker replied, rooting through the drawer with one hand.

He pulled out at least ten knives and stuck them in the ridiculously large pockets of the bright orange jail suit he had on and then took out something that alarmed Sophie and everyone who was watching: a hand grenade.

"Ready to go?" the Joker asked.

Sophie nodded and began running towards the door, coffee clutched in one hand, gun in the other. The Joker turned a small knob on top of the grenade and then skipped over to join her.

"You'll burn in hell for this, bitch!" one man spat at Sophie.

Without thinking twice, she threw the contents of the cup she was holding at his face and he roared with agony, trying to wipe off the scalding liquid as it burned his face.

"Don't call me that." Sophie told him, and then went out the door.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!" the Joker sang and then followed her, breaking into a run seconds later, which she copied.

There was a bang and Sophie felt hot air on her back, then the smoke rolled in and her eyes began to water. The Joker roughly grabbed her wrist and pulled her down an alleyway (which were in abundance in such a sinister city).

"Why are we staying here? They'll find us in no time!" Sophie said, coughing in the middle of her sentence.

"The closer you are to danger, the safer you are doll." The Joker replied.

Instead of releasing her wrist, he pulled her in even closer and grinned at her evilly.

"So I'd imagine you're pretty safe right now." He added.

"Ugh, let me go!" Sophie said, yanking her wrist out of his grasp.

"Let me just say, I'm proud of how easily you killed poor Timmy back there. I couldn't have done a better job myself. Well, I may have done it without so much regret, but…" the Joker told her, trailing off at the end.

"I did what I had to. And I'm sorry I had to kill him." Sophie whispered, new tears springing to her eyes that had nothing to do with the smoke.

"Oh, hush. You've been marvelously helpful so far. Especially right before we left when you burned that mans face right off! You've got class, kid." The Joker said earnestly.

"I'd take that as a compliment any other time, but coming from you I know it can't be good." Sophie muttered.

"That stung to the very core Sophie." The Joker replied, licking his lips.

"When are we going to leave? They're going to find us if we stay here any longer!" Sophie told him, glancing up and down the alleyway nervously.

"Hold your horses. I've got to change first," the Joker answered.

"Can't you do that later?" Sophie asked desperately.

"I've been wearing these hideous clothes for several months and I can't wait any longer to get out of them. Face the wall." The Joker told her.

Sophie did as she was told, a bit amused by the fact that the Joker was all of the sudden being _modest_, of all things. He began to sing and she recognized the tune, rolling her eyes in disgust at his awful parody of the lyrics she had grown up with.

"_Sharp, shiny knives and killing little kittens_

_Bright red lipstick and people that don't fit in_

_Grenades that go off with the pull of a string_

_These are a few of my favorite things"._

Several minutes later, he tapped her on the shoulder and she turned around to see him clad in a magnificent purple suit with a green waistcoat and light purple button down shirt with a hexagonal pattern on it. It was rather striking, she had to admit.

"Am I dashing or what?" the Joker asked.

"The only dashing we should be doing is away from here," Sophie replied.

"Bad segue." The Joker said with distaste.

"Whatever. Yeah, you look dashing. It looks like they took the trouble of dry cleaning your outfit," Sophie remarked.

"They were probably going to sell it to a museum," the Joker said.

"Or not. Why they left all of your things there is beyond me. The grenade especially! What a dumb idea." Sophie mused, surprised at how easy it had been to escape.

She was sure the remorse would catch up sometime, but as survival was the most basic human instinct, she was focusing on getting the hell away from the half-destroyed building and the cops surrounding it.

"Well, it worked out in our favor, so I won't complain. Let's go." The Joker said, and they ran down the alleyway and out onto a side street, which was apparently vacant.

"I feel ugly in this suit. Especially since you look all grand," Sophie grumped.

"Don't worry, I'll find something new for you to wear," the Joker assured her.

"Where?" Sophie asked.

"My secret hideout," the Joker replied with an almost ironic air.

"Is that where we're going?" Sophie asked.

"Of course, doll." The Joker answered.

They were silent for a few minutes as they half-walked, half-ran down the street, then the Joker spoke.

"It may have been classy to throw it at someone, but I really wanted that coffee."


	7. A Safe Place to Stay

A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you all for reading my story! Last chapter got the most comments so far, which makes me super happy. Oh, and I'm writing another Joker/OC story called 'To Watch the World Burn'. Just click my user name and it'll be there on the list of stories I've written. Thanks so much!

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

The Joker was thrilled. He was free of jail, of disgusting food, and of that _hideous_ orange suit. Not to mention he had successfully convinced Sophie to take her first victim. She would be his apprentice, his _sidekick_ of sorts. If she were to accompany him on his many adventures, she would need an alibi. What name fit her besides her birth name? Sophie Flores was not the name of a murderer, and nobody would ever take her seriously as a criminal if she went around with a moniker as sweet as a bag of candy.

Hmm…what about Thorn? Flores was similar to flowers, and some flowers had thorns. No, that was lousy. She was seemingly harmless..but actually deadly. Maybe they should salute Jim Jones and nickname her Grape Kool-Aid. Too hard to remember. What would compliment a Joker? A Queen?

He would decide later. They were nearly to his lair.

"Please don't tell me that this sketchy warehouse is you so-called 'secret hideout'." Sophie said, and he promptly crashed his train of thought.

"That's my mansion doll," the Joker replied, grinning.

"There's probably homeless people living there or something," Sophie remarked with a touch of disgust.

"Well, now. Your rich, snobby personality comes to light. I thought it would never happen." The Joker said, causing her to scowl.

"I am not snobby. Just…" Sophie trailed off.

"Look, there's no nice way to put it. You're repulsed by the homeless and the poor. You may think you're different from your family, but you can't pretend that you didn't inherit these prejudices." The Joker confirmed.

"I am _not_ repulsed by poor people! What does this have to do with anything?" Sophie exclaimed.

"It has to do with _everything_, my dear. I'm just trying to get to know you, and I get to know people by showing them for what they really are. And you're a purebred Flores girl who can't afford to be seen with the lower levels of society." The Joker answered.

"Right, I can't be seen with scumbags, yet here I am with the city's biggest criminal who probably hasn't had a bath since second grade," Sophie scoffed.

Oh, she was so delightful.

"My feelings are deeply hurt." The Joker said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, I can tell," Sophie muttered.

"Anyways, here we are! Home, sweet home!" the Joker announced, kicking open the side door of the warehouse and gazing around with a sense of nostalgia.

He hadn't been there in several months and had forgotten just how much he loved the place. It was the only place he had ever had the desire to call home, and it fit him just right: the walls were covered with purple paint and there was an old green couch in the farthest corner which was spotted with flecks of blood and who knows what else. Piles of explosives and gun powder lined the walls and several pistols were laying around here and there. It was almost comical, how clichéd the whole setup was.

"_This_ is where Gotham's finest criminal lives?" Sophie asked, sounding unimpressed.

"If you don't like it you can sleep outside. But thank you for the compliment," the Joker replied.

"There's not even any place to sleep in here! Except that couch…but I think I'll steer clear of it anyways," Sophie remarked, looking apprehensive.

"The couch is my bed anyways. Find your own space," the Joker snapped, annoyed with her complaints.

"Wow, you really know how to treat a guest," Sophie muttered.

He was beginning to think she had forgotten just how dangerous he could be. A little reminder would be good for her. He pulled a butterfly knife from his pocket and flicked it open, holding a centimeter away from her neck before she even had time to react.

"Did I tell you this was a five-star hotel doll?" he growled in her ear, pricking her skin just enough to draw blood.

"N-no." Sophie stuttered.

"Well, then. Perhaps you better stop your complaining, hmm?" the Joker asked.

"OK. I'm sorry." Sophie whispered, sounding terrified, which was exactly what he wanted.

"That's better, sweet pea," the Joker said, closing the knife and roughly shoving her to the ground.

"What the heck was that for?" Sophie demanded, picking herself up off the floor.

"You needed to be taught a lesson. Respect your superiors and you don't get hurt." The Joker answered calmly.

"You are _not_ my superior!" Sophie shouted angrily.

While he appreciated her fighting spirit, he wished she'd just give it up and accept that he was a better criminal than she'd ever be, and she would most certainly lose in a fight between the two of them.

"When it comes to crime, doll, I am." The Joker told her.

"Fine. You win. Now, do you have something for me to change into?" Sophie asked.

The Joker skipped over to a cardboard box that he kept his old clothes in and pulled out the suit he had worn _before_ the stunning purple one had been acquired. It was blue and had a light purple shirt that went with it, and he didn't like it much. It probably wouldn't fit her very well, either, but what could he do? They would just have to wait until he could get his tailor to whip something up for her.

"That?" Sophie asked, frowning.

"Beggars can't be choosers!" the Joker sang, tossing it to her unceremoniously.

"Where can I change into this?" Sophie said, looking around.

"What's wrong with right here?" the Joker asked.

"If I'm going to change right here, you're going to need to turn around. And no peeking," Sophie told him.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I doubt there's anything worth peeking at." The Joker muttered.

"Ass hole," Sophie shot back.

The Joker stared at the wall for several minutes, tapping his foot impatiently on the concrete floor. Finally, Sophie allowed him to turn back around. He burst into laughter at the sight of her; the suit was at least five times too big and she looked absolutely ridiculous.

"Shut up," Sophie said, her face flushing.

Whether it was with embarrassment or anger, he couldn't tell, but it just made him laugh harder. After several minutes, she huffed and went over to sit down on the couch, apparently waiting for his fit of mirth to subside. He walked over to join her when he had finally gotten his last giggle out, and she stood up and kicked him very hard in the shin.

"Son of a-why on earth did you do that?" the Joker exclaimed, clutching at his leg.

He could handle pain. But she had delivered an excruciatingly painful blow to a spot on his shin that was already bruised.

"That's payback for earlier." Sophie answered.

Fair enough.


	8. A Brand New Face

A/N: I haven't put much of a disclaimer up, but I would think that all of you are aware that I do not have any affiliations with DC Comics, Warner Bros., or any other companies I may have used material from. I only own Sophie and any other OCs I happen to come up with. Remember, your reviews make me happy. When I am happy, I am more likely to update. You like this story? Review! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and adding me to your alert/favorite stories lists. The story I am going to promote this chapter: The Jester and the Lawyer by moonservant! Now, enjoy chapter eight!

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

Sophie smirked with satisfaction as the Joker limped to the couch, obviously trying to act like he wasn't in pain. She knew she was supposed to be his protégé or whatever, but that didn't mean she had to let herself be threatened with knives, tossed onto the ground, or insulted. That barb was particularly sticking to her flesh: how dare he imply that she had a lousy figure! By now, she was a murdering piece of scum, but she could still defend her looks. Maybe she wasn't a supermodel, but she wasn't fat and she wasn't anorexic, either. She was naturally slim and her sister had once told her that she was jealous of her slight curves. Oh, bother. Why did she even care what that stupid clown thought? He was reading a tattered issue of Gotham Times, which he had probably kept since his face was on the cover.

"Would you stop glaring at me? You're burning holes in the paper," the Joker said, and Sophie looked away, blushing slightly.

"I wasn't even looking at you." She muttered, rolling up one of the sleeves of her-no, the_ Joker's_-shirt.

"Lying gets you nowhere, beautiful." The Joker replied in a sing song voice that irked her.

"I'm not." Sophie told him.

"Not what?" The Joker asked, confused.

"I'm not beautiful." Sophie answered.

The Joker stared at her for a second, as if trying to figure something out, and then sighed, apparently exasperated.

"You think you're ugly because of what I said earlier, don't you?" he asked.

"Don't be cocky. Your opinion hardly is of value to me, clown. I've just never thought of myself as beautiful, and you don't need to pretend you think otherwise. You may call me by my real name, which, in case you forgot, is Sophie." Sophie replied as coldly as she could, somehow unable to look into his dark brown eyes while she said this.

"Stop fishing for compliments. You know you've got something going on…Sophie." The Joker said quietly.

For whatever reason, Sophie blushed again. It wasn't fair. Sociopath clowns should _not_ be allowed to act charming, or make her blush in any way. Damn him. The Joker went back to reading the paper, a slight smile twitching on his lips.

"This is dull. When are we going to cause some mayhem?" Sophie asked.

"All in good time, _Sophie_." The Joker replied, drawing out her name just to prove that he hadn't forgotten it.

"What are we going to do?" Sophie questioned, surprised to find that she was very eager for another adventure of sorts.

"My, my, my! You are an impatient girl, aren't you? If you really can't sit still another second, I suppose we could go out and run a few, uh, _errands_." The Joker told her, grinning deviously.

"Such as?" Sophie persisted.

"Well, that's the fun! I'm not going to tell you where we're going! Either you can guess…or you can just trust that I have something good in mind," the Joker said.

"It better have to do with finding me something else to wear," Sophie warned.

"It just might." The Joker replied, sounding rather put out.

Sophie supposed that meant that's what they were going to do, and perked up a little bit. The Joker stood up and so did Sophie, and then they walked-well, on his part, limped-to the door.

"If you hadn't kicked me earlier, I would say we could walk. But I don't think my leg will make it that far, so we might as well drive there," the Joker said somewhat grumpily.

"Stop being a sissy. You've taken worse hits than that, I'm sure, and if you're determined to wreak havoc on Gotham, you should learn to expect injuries." Sophie told him, and he scowled, pulling open the door of a beat up white van for her.

"Thanks," Sophie added, feeling a little bad for berating him.

It was hard to get used to him and his many mood swings. One moment he would be cackling with glee, the next he would be pulling a blade on you, and the next he would be acting like a child who had dropped their ice cream cone in the dirt, completely sullen. Sophie was becoming accustomed to it though, and she had to admit that she kind of liked the unpredictability of his personality.

But in no way was she fond of him. The only reason she was teaming up with him in the first place was to get back at the GPD, and as soon as she had done that, she was gone for good. She didn't know where she would go after this whole…schism was over, but probably somewhere as far away from here as possible. Where, though? As a list of locations began to form in her head, she was abruptly jolted forward and then thrown back against the car seat as the Joker peeled out of the parking lot, seemingly oblivious to the way Sophie was being thrown around like a rag doll.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" she asked, feeling very nauseous.

"Driving," the Joker answered calmly.

"This is NOT driving. This is a slightly more controlled version of careening all over the street. Look out for that car!" Sophie exclaimed, instinctively preparing her body for a collision.

The Joker laughed madly and swerved dangerously to avoid hitting the tiny Cooper that had been in their pathway seconds before.

"Would you slow down? I think I'm going to be sick," Sophie said, clutching at her stomach.

Surprisingly, it worked. The Joker slowed the van to almost a snails pace, than picked up speed again, ending up at around fifty miles per hour.

"Where are we going?" Sophie asked, glancing at buildings they passed, most of which were derelict or had signs that said 'for rent' stuck to a boarded up window.

"Does it really matter?" the Joker asked, sounding annoyed.

"I guess not," Sophie huffed, turning her attention to the window again.

As much as he bugged her, she was beginning to hate the feeling of him being angry with her. She thought about apologizing, but just as she had decided she would, he screeched to a stop, causing her to fly forward again and smack her head on the dashboard. Never mind say sorry, then.

"Ouch!" Sophie exclaimed, knowing a purple bruise was blossoming on her skin that very moment.

"Don't be a sissy," the Joker said mockingly, and then got out of the van, signaling for her to follow him.

The building they had stopped in front of was unusually small, at least for Gotham, a city filled with sky scrapers and mile high apartment complexes. The door was boarded up and the place looked like it had been abandoned for decades.

"What is this?" Sophie asked.

"You'll see," the Joker replied, walking around to the back of the building.

Sophie joined him, only to find that he was staring intently at two trash cans, which were placed against the wall of whatever the place was. Finally, he pushed one aside to reveal a small door, which he swung open. Swinging his legs in first, he jumped down and then called up for her to do the same. Somewhat hesitantly, Sophie stuck her legs in the hole and then sort of fell the short distance to the floor.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"This is where I get all my clothes done." The Joker explained, peering around in the dark room, "but it would seem that my tailor isn't in right now, so I will have to leave a note."

He took out a Joker card from his pocket and wrote something on it, then set it on a table that was laden with fabric.

"Can't imagine this place gets much business, considering the difficulty of getting here," Sophie remarked. "Speaking of which, how do we get out?" she added.

"There's a ladder somewhere…ah, here we are!" the Joker announced, pulling a small wooden ladder out from the shadows and placing it under the trapdoor.

"Ladies first," he told her.

Sophie began to climb up, and had just gotten to the tenth rung when her foot fell through and she nearly tumbled off backwards.

"Which rung is broken?" the Joker asked.

"The tenth. Hang on, you _knew_ it was broken and you didn't tell me?" Sophie replied, outraged.

"Well, I always forget which one it is…that's why I let you go first!" the Joker said, giggling.

"I hate you sometimes." Sophie told him.

"Thank you." The Joker answered.

When they got back up to the street, the Joker fixed the trap door so it couldn't be found and they went back to the van.

"Was that the only errand you had in mind?" Sophie asked.

"Well…yeah." The Joker replied. "There'll be more to do tomorrow," he added reassuringly.

"So, we just go back to the 'hideout' now?" Sophie questioned.

"Unless you have somewhere you need to be, yes," the Joker answered.

"No, not really." Sophie said, and prepared herself for the gut wrenching drive back.

When they returned to the warehouse, it was nearly dark, and Sophie realized that she was exhausted. The floor next to the couch had a small rug on it, so she curled up there and tried to ignore the scent of gasoline that was hanging around her 'pillow' (the jacket of the Joker's old suit rolled up into a ball).

They were both silent for a few minutes, and then Sophie got up the courage to speak.

"How did you get your scars?"

The Joker laughed quietly and turned to face her in the dim light.

"I knew you were going to ask that," he said, licking his lips.

"Will you tell me?" Sophie asked.

"Well…fine. When I was eight years old, I was in the school play. In fact, I was the main character. My mother had to sew me a costume, which I wasn't too excited about because she was an awful seamstress. But when she finished making my costume, I tried to act like I loved it. Unfortunately, my father-who was quite, uh, _intoxicated_ at the time-saw right through my lies and began to yell at me. He said I didn't appreciate my mother's work enough and should be happy that I had someone who was willing to take the time to make me a costume. He took a knife and carved my face so that I would always be smiling. And afterwards, my crying mother-who did nothing to stop him during this-sewed me up. I may not have gotten the scars if I had been sewn up properly…but like I said, she was a terrible seamstress." The Joker said.

Sophie couldn't tell if he had made up the story or not. It didn't sound believable, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"Oh." Sophie finally said, feeling slightly sad for him.

Even if the story wasn't true, he was still stuck with those scars.

"You don't believe me, do you?" the Joker asked.

"Well…is it true?" Sophie asked.

"Doll, I said I'd tell you the story but I never said it was the true version," the Joker replied.

Sophie pouted. She wanted to know what had actually happened to him! Just as she was about to ask something more about him, there was a knock on the door. It was unexpected, and she jumped, startled. The Joker stood up, careful not to step on her, and opened the door, a knife clutched in his hand. For a second he was silent and then he said,

"Hello Harley."


	9. This Old City's Unloved

A/N: Hello, all. Sorry for the hiatus this story has been on. I haven't been in the mood to write very much lately, but I figured I should post a chapter so you all know I'm not dead. For many reasons, the top one being that I don't have time to update two stories, I am putting my other story, To Watch the World Burn, on hold until I finish this one. So, it will be deleted for now, but I will begin writing it again after this one wraps up. Anyways, thank you all for your reviews and support. I apologize for this chapter being a little short, but the next one will be longer (and better). If anyone was wondering about the timeline of this story, it takes place after the Dark Knight.

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

The Joker was not surprised to see Harley standing there, in full jester regalia. She definitely would have heard by now that he had escaped from jail, and she was the only one besides Sophie that knew where his "house" was. He was surprised, however, when she burst into tears, spreading her black and white make up all over her face.

"Oh, Mister J!" she exclaimed, embracing him tightly, "I missed you so much!".

The Joker patted her on the back awkwardly. He didn't want to look like a sissy in front of either of the two women, but, quite truthfully, he had missed his little Harlequin, too.

Sophie walked up to them, her expression somewhat amused.

"Uh, hi," she said, waving at Harley.

The Joker grimaced, knowing that Harley's jealous wrath was not something that anyone would want to witness, but it was too late. She pulled away from him and glared at Sophie with her cobalt blue eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" Harley demanded.

"I'm, uh, Sophie Flores," Sophie stammered, any sort of confidence she had previously attained vanished.

The Joker couldn't believe it; she wasn't afraid of him at all and had the nerve to backtalk him, but she cowered in fear when _Harley_ demanded to know her name? It was almost hilarious, but he was so taken aback that he couldn't fully appreciate the humor in the situation.

"Oh, you're that girl who killed her family," Harley clarified, her tone turning from anger to disinterest.

"No, I'm that girl who helped your boyfriend escape from prison." Sophie shot back, clearly annoyed.

"What did you do, hold the door open for him? I can't see how you could have been of any use," Harley said scathingly.

"Play nicely children!" the Joker interjected,

They both stared at him menacingly and even he had to take a step back.

"Excuse me, but did you help at all? No, you didn't, so why don't you just shut up?" Sophie asked, turning her attention back to Harley.

"I have helped Mister J with more things than you can shake a stick at, so why don't you just leave?" Harley replied.

"If you're so helpful, why weren't you on the news? I didn't see anything about you being his accomplice," Sophie pointed out.

"I'm like the Joker's secret weapon. Isn't that right, Mister J?" Harley asked.

"Indeed, Harley, indeed. But Sophie is going to be a part of our little team, too, so try to be nice. Oh, and we need to think of a new name for her. Any ideas?" the Joker asked.

"Well, considering the condition of the clothes she's wearing, and the way they fit her, I think we should call her Salvation Army." Harley said, smirking.

"These are his clothes," Sophie told her, gesturing at the Joker.

Harley blushed.

"Oops, sorry puddin'!" she said, ignoring the retching sound Sophie made at the nickname.

"Don't mention it. Did you bring Bud and Lou?" the Joker asked.

"Who are Bud and Lou?" Sophie piped up, looking confused.

"They're our Rottweiler's. Trained to kill anyone we sick 'em on. Hope you're not afraid of dogs," Harley said, grinning evilly.

Sophie glared at her in response.

"Anyways, I'll go get them. They're tied up outside," Harley said, and skipped out the door.

Sophie watched her go and then turned to the Joker, a smirk on her face.

"Puddin'?" she said, obviously poking fun at the term of endearment Harley used for him.  
"Oh, shut up," the Joker grumbled.

He was sure a better comeback would come to him later on.


	10. This Heartache's Gonna Win

A/N: Hi everyone! A huge thanks to everyone who review last chapter, even though it was short and, in my opinion, pretty lousy. This chapter (in comparison) is pretty long. There is a character named Spider in here, but please don't think I copied off of Spiderman! This is in no way supposed to be a replica of him, so I apologize if they seem even slightly similar. Sorry the Joker has been kind of mellow the past few chapters…the madness will return, I promise! Don't forget to review 

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

Sophie was elated: she had just succeeded in embarrassing Gotham's clown prince of crime. How funny that someone that thousands of citizens were afraid of went by the nickname "Puddin'" in his downtime. A smile crept onto her lips but promptly disappeared when she realized she still had to deal with that little brat, Harley. As if on cue, the little Harlequin herself ran in the door, closely followed by two enormous Rottweiler's. Trying to look brave, Sophie reached out and petted one of them on top of the head. To her surprise, it wagged its tail and sat down near her feet, obviously expecting her to keep petting him.

"You're a good boy, aren't you?" Sophie asked, grinning.

She had always wanted a dog, but her parents thought she would be too irresponsible to handle one, and once she had moved out, her living quarters wouldn't have accommodated any pets very well. The thought of her parents left her with a feeling like a stone had lodged itself in her throat and she had to blink back several tears.

"Don't get too friendly with Bud there. One word and he'll bite that hand of yours right off," Harley said, clearly annoyed with how well the dog had taken to Sophie.

"Delightful," Sophie muttered, wondering how much longer she would have to put up with the jester suit-wearing jerk.

"Why are you wearing my puddin's clothes?" Harley demanded.

"The jail suit was sort of conspicuous, so-" Sophie began.

"Like a suit five sizes too big _isn't_?" Harley cut in, smirking.

"I didn't have anything else to wear, so the Joker lent me this. His tailor is going to make me something else though," Sophie finished, savoring the look of jealousy on Harley's face.

"PUDDIN'!" Harley yelled.

"What the devil do you want, woman?" the Joker shouted back, sounding very exasperated.

"I want a new suit!" Harley replied.

"There's nothing wrong with that one!" the Joker called from the corner of the warehouse.

"But _she_ gets one, so I should, too!" Harley whined indignantly, stamping her foot like a child.

"Fine!" the Joker growled, storming past them.

Sophie stared: he was no longer wearing the purple jacket and she could see how well his vest hugged his figure. His sleeves were rolled up and she saw that his forearms were really quite nice. He would be almost dashing if it were not for the fact that he was a sociopath clown.

"Stop ogling my Puddin'!" Harley said, clinging to the Joker possessively.

"I'm not!" Sophie snapped, embarrassed.

"Ladies, please stop bickering. I know I'm worth fighting over, but, quite frankly, it's getting on my nerves." The Joker said, a knowing smile on his scarlet lips.

"Look, I would never in a million years fight over you, so you can just shut your trap!" Sophie yelled at him and he stopped smiling at once.

"Well, you don't have to be mean about it," he mumbled, looking hurt.

Sophie couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, but she didn't really care, either. Stupid Harley, trying to make her look bad!

"Mister J, I'm tired. Can I share the couch with you?" Harley asked, fluttering her eyelashes up at the Joker.

"If you must," the Joker sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I guess I'll just curl up on the nice, soft floor," Sophie huffed, following them to the sofa.

They cuddled up while she tried to get comfortable, thankful to Bud and Lou for laying down next to her in a way that kept her a little more warm.

As she slowly drifted off to sleep, Sophie couldn't help but wish that it was still just her and the Joker…alone, together.

The next morning, Sophie awoke to the sound of Harley singing 'Smooth Criminal', by Michael Jackson, at the top of her lungs. Needless to say, the day did not start off very well. After rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Sophie joined Harley and the Joker around a small table built out of wooden crates, where the two of them were eating Fruit Loops out of the box.

"Good morning, sunshine!" the Joker trilled, popping a piece of cereal into his mouth.

"Mornings are _never_ good." Sophie said grumpily.

"Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," Harley remarked.

"Yeah, more like the wrong side of the floor," Sophie replied, glaring at her.

She now saw that Harley had taken off her mask and her features were clear. With her long blond hair, bright blue eyes, and petal-pink lips, she was an absolute bombshell. And Sophie hated it.

"Fruit Loops?" the Joker offered, sliding the box toward her.

"Thanks," Sophie replied, taking a handful.

She hadn't eaten for nearly thirty-six hours, and found that she was ravenous, but she didn't want to look piggy, so just took a few Loops at a time. The Joker had sorted his cereal out so he only had green and purple pieces, and threw the other colors to the dogs. It was oddly domesticated, the three of them eating breakfast together in a sort of home. One mass murderer, one sidekick, and one inexperienced accomplice: the perfect family.

Sophie silently cursed herself. These people were _not_ her family! Her family was gone, and even if they weren't, there was no way they would ever accept her. She was a criminal. A young man was dead because of her!

"What are our plans for today?" Sophie asked, trying to distract herself.

"We've got to pick up your suit and get Harley fitted for a new one," the Joker answered, scanning the most recent edition of the Gotham Times. The headline screamed, 'Mass-murdering clown on the loose in Gotham!'.

"My suit's already finished?" Sophie asked.

"My tailor is very, uh, _efficient_," the Joker told her, licking his lips.

She wondered why he did that. Perhaps the face paint dried them out, or perhaps it was a subconscious thing.

"Can we go now?" Harley asked, tapping her foot on the floor impatiently.

"I guess so," the Joker replied, throwing on his jacket and skipping out the door, closely followed by Harley.

Sophie hastily swallowed the last of her Fruit Loops, choking on the last one. Coughing, she ran out to the an before they left without her. It was a slightly less chaotic than the last trip, but she still had a stomachache by the time they arrived at the derelict building.

They found the trapdoor and once again jumped down into the room, but they could see this time, because it was illuminated with a few gas lamps. Yards of cloth were strewn across the floor, spools of thread lying here and there, unfinished projects draped over all available surfaces, and in the midst of all this stood a tall man with slick black hair, sallow skin, and a fancy looking pinstriped suit in a deep red color. He reminded Sophie of the actor from the Addams Family.

"Oh! You're here! I wasn't expecting you until much later," he said in a silky voice that had a very melodic, almost hypnotic flow to it.

"Yes, well, Harley was very eager to see you. She needs a new suit," the Joker explained.

"Ah, Harley Quinn, always a pleasure to see you. Did I not just sew that suit a few months ago?" the man asked, turning to Harley.

"I've worn it out. Wreaking havoc on Gotham can really take its toll on spandex," Harley replied with a grin.

"I see. Well, I will measure you in a moment. Now, I have the other outfit you requested-who is it for?" the man inquired.

"That is for the newest addition to my little team, Miss Sophie Flores," the Joker answered, ushering her forward.

"Oh, I know who you are! Congratulations on your escape from the penitentiary; it was most impressive. Anyways, it's a delight to meet you," the man exclaimed, shaking her hand vigorously.

"You, too, Mr. …?" Sophie trailed off.

"Spider. Please call me Spider," the man finished for her, smiling.

"Spider. It's lovely to meet you." Sophie told him, returning the smile.

"Here is your suit. I hope it is to your liking," Spider said, handing her a pile of green and purple clothing.

Oh, great. She would match the Joker. The outfit consisted of a green shirt with puffy sleeves that ended right below the shoulder, with large purple buttons down the front; purple suspenders attached to green shorts with green buttons; and green tights with purple boots to complete the ensemble.

"Mickey Mouse shorts?" Sophie asked, raising her eyebrows.

"They're all the rage right now, I promise you." Spider assured her.

"Try it on!" the Joker said, shooing her over to the corner of the room covered with a curtain, which Sophie supposed served as a sort of changing room.

She made sure nobody could see in and then quickly pulled off the Joker's old suit and put on her new one. Expecting it to look ridiculous, she peered into the mirror. To her astonishment, it fit perfectly, and, although it was silly, the whole thing kind of worked. A bit awkwardly, she left the room and struck a pose. The Joker applauded, apparently pleased with the way it looked. Harley scowled, and Spider beamed.

"Now all you need is a name," the Joker mused.

"Have you any special talents?" Spider asked.

"Uh…I'm good at impressions and acting. I used to get the lead role in school plays fairly often," Sophie replied, slightly confused as to why he had asked.

"I've got it!" the Joker exclaimed, a 'Eureka' expression on his painted face.

"What?" Sophie asked.

"Your name. From now on, you shall be known as Zany." The Joker said.

"Zany?" Sophie repeated, frowning.

"Yes. Someone that mimics others, or someone with strange, clownish behavior. You do impressions and you're part of the Joker's crew. What could be better?" the Joker said.

"Brilliant!" Spider proclaimed.

"I like it, actually," Sophie said, grinning at her new name.

The Joker licked his lips and smiled before declaring,

"Harley, Zany, and the Joker. Together, we can take Gotham."


	11. Who's to Say?

A/N: Hi everyone! I am so, so, so sorry about the slow updates-I've been so busy lately! This chapter is ridiculously short, but I am posting it so you know I'm not dead. Anyways, if you want to read more stories written by me, I have a Heroes fan fiction up now! Find it on my lookup and don't hesitate to read and review! Thank you for reading-I love all of you wonderful people!

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

The Joker gave Zany, formerly known as Sophie, an approving nod. The measurements he had given were perfect and the fresh take on a traditional jester outfit looked, to say the least, stunning on her. Harley was busy sulking, jealous that she wasn't the center of attention, but Spider soon cheered her up by offering to let her help design her new outfit.

"So, are we ready to wreak some havoc, Zany?" The Joker asked slyly, a malicious grin spreading over his face.

"Hell yes," Zany replied, grinning back.

She wasn't completely corrupted yet, but she was well on her way. She had killed a man, helped him escape from jail, got a brand new name and outfit, and was beginning to love _chaos._ Not as much as him, of course, but the idea of watching the entire world burn seemed to be growing more and more attractive to her as the days went by.

"Are you almost done?" The Joker asked Spider impatiently.

"Almost, sir," Spider answered, rolling up his tape measurer and giving Harley a somewhat sarcastic thumbs up.

"Okey-dokey, Mister J, where are we headed?" Harley asked.

"Pruitt building." The Joker replied.

"Why there?" Zany asked, confused.

"We've got a bat to catch."

~TO BE CONTINUED~


	12. You Set Yourself On Fire

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry I've been so lax about updating. I've got a bunch of excuses, but the biggest one is that I've had the flu recently and don't really feel like doing much. Many congrats to Mr. Heath Ledger on his much deserved Oscar win. But anyways, please check out my other story, which is called 'I Don't Want to Be Your Hero', and review it! Thank you all for bearing with me, and enjoy the latest installment in the epic tale of Zany, Harley, and the Joker!

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

Zany stared at the Joker incredulously. They were going after Batman already? She barely knew anything about what they were doing! Oh, well. She couldn't do anything about the Joker's spontaneous nature, so she decided to just roll with the punches, so to speak. Harley was grinning like a cat that had just swallowed a particularly delicious mouse; Zany thought it rather frightening.

"To the Pruitt building we go!" the Joker announced, beginning his climb up the ladder Spider had dutifully set up.

Zany and Harley winced as he stepped on the broken rung and tumbled backwards off the ladder.

"Poor Puddin'," Harley murmured, helping him up.

"Damn it, Harley, do I look like I need your help?" the Joker roared, apparently embarrassed.

"To be quite frank, yes," Zany put in, realizing a moment too late that this was not a question he had desired to be answered truthfully.

Her words put a scowl on his face, and it did not abandon his features until they were back in the battered white van. Zany supposed the thought of raising hell was something that never failed to cheer him up, and made a mental note to use that to her advantage should he ever become furious with her.

"So, how exactly are we going to catch Batman?" Zany asked.

"We'll set a trap and let the rest do itself." The Joker answered mysteriously.

"Wow, could you have been more detailed, Shakespeare?" Zany grumbled.

"Look, Zany, the details aren't important. All that's important are the _supplies_," The Joker said.

"Care to elaborate?" Harley asked, looking as confused as Zany felt.

"Check under the middle seat. There should be some gasoline and a box of matches. Oh, and a revolver and a couple butterfly knives as well," the Joker replied.

Zany looked and found the listed items, somewhat alarmed at the thought of just how much destruction they could cause with such things.

"Yeah, it's all there," Zany clarified.

"We've got a message to send to Gotham: the Joker's back, and more dangerous than ever!" the Joker exclaimed, lapsing into one of his trademark fits of mirth.

"And how is this stuff going to help us send that message?" Zany persisted, still confused.

"You'll see." The Joker answered, suddenly deadly serious.

They arrived at the Pruitt building only a few bruises worse for the wear, and waited while the Joker stared up at the structure with a disappointed look in his dark eyes.

"This is too empty. I've decided that we'll go to downtown Gotham instead; much better for what I've got in mind." The Joker said, gunning the engine and peeling out of the parking lot like a driver in the Fast and the Furious.

"What _have_ you got in mind?" Zany asked impatiently.

"He's not going to tell us. We'll find out sooner or later," Harley sighed, her tone suggesting that she was used to this sort of escapade.

Zany decided to just keep her mouth shut until it was absolutely necessary to open it. They instead pulled into the parking lot of Wayne Enterprises, a corporation Zany had heard of but didn't know much about.

"What better way to announce I'm back than to destroy Gotham's biggest enterprise?" the Joker asked in a delighted voice.

"Um, I'm pretty sure everyone knows you're back. I mean, you were front page of at least four newspapers. You don't have to wreck a whole building," Zany said apprehensively.

Yes, she was a crook, and a big one at that, but she didn't want to kill anyone she didn't have to. Destroying a building full of innocent human beings sounded like a good way to do just that, and she was considering refusing to do so.

"Zany, Zany, Zany. You're at the point of no return now. Either you go along with what I have in mind, or I shoot you. Simple as that." The Joker said in a sing-song voice, drawing a pistol from under the driver's seat.

Zany stared at the barrel of the gun nervously, wondering if he meant his words. As if he had read her mind, the Joker said,

"I'm damn serious, doll. Now, get out of the car and follow my _instructions_."

Somewhat reluctantly, Zany unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out of the van, followed by Harley.

"I'm glad these suits don't make us look at all conspicuous," Zany muttered, crossing her arms over her chest as if to conceal her curious ensemble.

"Catch," the Joker said, tossing her a pistol.

Luckily, Zany's reflexes didn't fail her and she held the gun awkwardly, wondering why its weight felt so familiar to her.

"Hey, it's the Joker!" someone yelled, clearly not registering the fact that the criminal was holding a revolver, which he casually aimed at the man's head.

A moment later, the man was dead, but seemed to have alerted others. Sensing this, the Joker ran to the back door of the building and gestured for his two companions to follow. Gun in hand, Zany nervously boarded the service elevator with Harley and the Joker, surprised when she realized they were going all the way to the top floor. When the doors slid open, they carefully ran to the roof entrance and climbed the flight of stairs presented to them. It was a good thing Zany didn't get vertigo, because the building was absurdly tall; it seemed to be the tallest structure in Gotham. For a few seconds, Zany forgot what she was doing, but remembered when she noticed the Joker pouring gasoline over the roof. He seemed to be spelling something out, but she couldn't quite make out what it was. Then, without warning he threw a match down and flames flared up dangerously.

"What now?" Harley asked, alarmed.

"Run," the Joker replied simply.

They did just that. They didn't actually make contact with anyone until several floors down; a short, balding man with watery eyes who seemed rather upset about something. Of course, his day didn't improve when he bumped into three criminals who happened to be heavily armed.

"Don't shoot!" he exclaimed, dropping his briefcase.

"Oh, I'm not going to shoot ya. Just deliver this message to your coworkers for me, all right? Where there's smoke, there's fire." The Joker cackled, watching the man run off with a certain amusement.

It took several minutes for the panic to set in, and by the time it had, the entire building had become smoky. Zany coughed, her eyes stinging, and made the mistake of asking if the Joker was actually going to do anything or were they just going to sit there. The Joker whirled around and yelled,

"We're not leaving until Batsy shows up!"

To which a gruff voice replied,

"Then I guess you had better be going now."

Out of the thick cloud of smoke that had formed in the hall, Batman appeared, looking very serene despite the circumstances and proceeded to engage in hand-to-hand combat with the Joker, who was clearly outmatched. After Zany watched the Joker suffer several blows to the head and stomach, she stepped in, gun aimed at Batman steadily.

"You won't shoot," Batman growled.

"Oh, yeah? How do you know?" Zany challenged.

In answer, Batman knocked the gun from her hands and kicked it into the approaching flames. There was a small 'pop', signifying that the gun was no longer useable.

"Oh damn." Zany said.

Batman delivered a sharp kick to her shin that she had no time to recover from because she was too busy throwing punches at his torso. None of them made contact, but he seemed surprised at her ability to match his every move. Suddenly, she grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, enabling the Joker to freely pound him.

"Three on one? You really fight fair, Joker." Batman said in an angry tone.

"Well, I don't have all of your nifty gadgets, now do I ?" the Joker asked, grinning manically.

"What do you want?" Batman asked.

"I just want to see who you really are. Oh, and I want to take over Gotham," the Joker answered nonchalantly.

"Give it up Joker. You can't win," Batman growled, twisting free of Zany's grasp.

Suddenly, his fist came into contact with her face and then…all went black.


	13. You Finally Gave In

A/N: Holy mackerel, it has been a while since I updated! Sorry about the wait. My other Joker story has been cancelled, due to lack of free time to update it, but I may pick it up again in the summer. Enjoy the chapter, because there will only be one more left!

You've Made My Life a Beautiful Hell

The Joker let out a stream of curses that would have made a sailor blush as he tried-quite unsuccessfully-to kick open a door that lead outside of Wayne Enterprises, which had become choked with flames in several short minutes. Batman had escaped; he took out some sort of fancy grappling hook and flew out the window before the Joker could even get a good punch in. Before leaving, however, he had knocked out Zany and given her a bruise the size of Texas on the side of her face. With all the smoke, he couldn't be quite sure, but it looked like there was also some kind of incision where Batman's knuckles had come into contact with her skin. Harley finally slammed the door hard enough that it opened and they staggered out into the street. Several onlookers gasped and one took out a cell phone, as if he was going to call 9-11, but Harley aimed her gun at him and he froze. The Joker put Zany in the back of the van and waited for Harley to climb in before peeling out of the parking lot.

It was not the cleanest getaway.

When they arrived back at the warehouse, it became quite clear to the Joker that Zany was in no condition to cause mayhem for at least another few days. The entire side of her face was bruised up and a small but deep cut was gushing blood all over. Although he could deal with pain better than any human, the Joker couldn't help but feel sympathetic. That had to hurt.

"Pass me the first aid kit," the Joker said.

"What's the magic word?" Harley replied.

"I don't have time for this Harley! Just get me the damn kit!" the Joker growled.

"Fine," she huffed, passing him a small white box that contained some rubbing alcohol, a few band-aids, and a gauze bandage.

They usually didn't suffer injuries, so the kit was almost never needed. The Joker supposed that's why it was so empty.

"Well, unless you need me to play nurse, I'm going to see Spider. My new outfit should be done by now, and this one is covered in soot and blood," Harley said, sounding disgusted.

"Run along," the Joker muttered.

He wasn't exactly sure how to go about tending Zany's wounds. Shrugging, he poured some of the alcohol onto the gauze and began to dab at the cut with it.

"Mother effer!" Zany exclaimed, sitting up and clutching at her cheek.

She winced and brought her hand away, a nauseous expression crossing her face at the sight of the sticky scarlet blood on her fingers.

"Don't touch it," the Joker snapped.

"What happened?" Zany asked, sounding dazed.

"You were careless. Batman got away, and now you're useless for a week because of _this_," the Joker said, gesturing at her wound.

"Well, sorry! I never claimed to be a ninja, and going mano el mano with Batman apparently requires certain combat skills," Zany griped.

"Just be quiet," the Joker told her.

He wasn't really very angry with her; he just liked to watch her get mad and try to think of scathing remarks that never really did any damage.

"You're not putting that on my face again," Zany said bluntly.

"No, I'm not. Here, have a band-aid." The Joker replied, handing her several.

Zany stared at them intently.

"Dora the Explorer band-aids? Are you kidding me?" she asked, looking half way between amusement and anger.

"I've said it before and I'll repeat myself: beggars can't be choosers." The Joker replied.

"Ugh. Where's Harley?" Zany inquired, peering around the dank warehouse.

"Spider's place," the Joker answered shortly.

"Is she mad at me, too?" Zany asked.

The Joker shrugged, although he knew the answer was yes.

"I'm sorry I messed up." Zany said softly, biting her lip.

The Joker took her hand and smiled slightly. It was difficult to act human, but he tried his best. This was something a friend would do, right?

"That's all right, doll," the Joker told her.

He didn't mean to sound so sincere, but she must have believed him, because she also smiled. Loosening his grip on her hand, he was surprised to feel her resist. It was almost like she wanted to hold hands with a sociopath! How odd she was. His lips curled into a Cheshire cat grin and she blushed.

"Sorry," Zany mumbled.

"No, it's quite all right. I realize I'm quite popular with the ladies," the Joker said.

"Doubtful," Zany scoffed, and released his hand instantly.


End file.
